


after midnight

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2014 Les Misérables Holiday Exchange:</p>
<p>"Combeferre and Grantaire meet at a Denny's at 2 am. And then at an iHop at 3 am the next morning. Really, they need to get more sleep, shame on them. Anyway, they're sort of in love, and Courfeyrac and Enjolras are amused."</p>
            </blockquote>





	after midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emeryandthe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeryandthe/gifts).



Combeferre wasn’t sure at what point studying in the middle of the night had become a habit for him. Anyway, it was now and it worked perfectly well for him. The apartment was quiet, his roommates had gone to bed hours ago – well, Courfeyrac had.

He’d heard Enjolras tiptoe down the hall just before midnight, but Combeferre had a feeling that he’d probably dozed off as well. He’d found him fast asleep on a pile of books only two days ago.

Around half past one Combeferre decided that it was time for a study break and quickly snuck out of his room and into the kitchen. It looked remarkably tidy, except for their fridge, which was covered in post-it notes ranging from _we’re out of milk!!!_ to _Courfeyrac you need to stop trying to sneak me decaffeinated coffee_.

Combeferre smiled faintly as he opened the fridge, looking for something that looked remotely edible. It seemed that they weren’t only out of milk, though. The longer he stared into their empty fridge, the hungrier Combeferre got, so he picked up one of the post-its to let Enjolras and Courfeyrac know that he was out to get himself something to eat.

He pulled on his shoes and his coat, wrapped a scarf around his neck and picked up his keys before he made his way downstairs. Unsurprisingly, the streets were mostly deserted.

Combeferre started walking, not really thinking about where he was actually going. There were a couple of fast food places down the street, most of them open twenty-four hours a day, so it wasn’t like he’d have trouble finding a place that was still open.

He ended up walking into Denny’s because it was closest, sat down in a booth by the window and ordered some mozzarella sticks.

Despite the late hour, Combeferre wasn’t the only one there. He could spot an elderly lady, devouring an ice cream sundae with a happy smile on her face, a group of students, all of them obviously in a rather cheerful mood, and a guy a couple of booths down that Combeferre had hardly noticed when he’d taken a seat.

His cheeks were scruffy and his hair wild, there was a tattoo poking out from under the neckline of his shirt and he had striking blue eyes and they were staring right back at Combeferre.

In an attempt to downplay his rudeness, Combeferre smiled at him and quickly turned his attention back to his mozzarella sticks. It was terribly impolite to just outright stare at people and Combeferre somehow felt the need to go over there and apologize, but that would only make this situation even more awkward than it already was, so he simply kept his eyes fixed on his plate.

A couple of minutes later he dared to look up again and found the guy he’d been staring at looking at him, still with a smirk on his face. They held eye contact for a couple of seconds. Combeferre simply couldn’t look away, so he smiled again, mainly because this whole thing was pretty ridiculous.

He was dimly aware that he was flirting with some random stranger and even though he usually did his best to be polite to those around him he usually didn’t just flirt – at least not as easily as Courfeyrac did.

Combeferre looked up again after a minute or two and this time the stranger was looking away, but not for long, since he must have somehow felt Combeferre’s eyes on him.

The guy grinned, slung his bag over his shoulder, picked up his drink and notebook and came wandering over to Combeferre’s table.

“I felt at this point it would be rude of me not to come over and say hello,” the guy said, holding out his hand. “I’m Grantaire.”

Combeferre, caught off guard, only stared up at him.

The stranger, Grantaire, bit his lip. “Unless you were only smiling at me because you’re a really friendly person and I totally misread this and you didn’t actually want to talk to me about, I don’t know, how you ended up in this fine establishment at two in the morning or something.” He smirked. “In that case I apologize and will go back to my own booth.”

Quite frankly, Combeferre wasn’t so sure what he’d wanted, but this guy seemed like a pleasant enough person, so Combeferre eventually smiled back at him and shook his head. “Please, have a seat.”

Grantaire slid onto the bench across from Combeferre, eyeing him with interest.

“I’m not…” Combeferre started, not sure how exactly to word this without offending Grantaire. “I just came here to get something to eat, not to…”

“Hey,” Grantaire said, his lips twitching into an easy smile, “don’t worry, I’m not trying to hit on you. I just like talking to people. If you want me to leave you alone, just say the word and you’ll quite possibly never see me again.”

Combeferre was smiling back at him now. “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“So, mysterious mozzarella sticks guys, do you have a name?” Grantaire asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’m Combeferre.”

“Combeferre,” Grantaire repeated, “what brings you here at this ungodly hour?”

“I’m taking a study break,” Combeferre told him. “And you?”

Grantaire grinned. “You’re a college kid, how adorable,” he said, winking at him. “Well,” he continued and held up his notepad, “I was actually trying to get some work done, but I didn’t exactly feel inspired so I thought I might as well get something to eat and a shitload of coffee until I come up with something half-decent.”

“And did you?” Combeferre asked, ignoring the comment about him being an adorable college kid. Grantaire actually didn’t look like he was much older than him.

“Not really,” Grantaire replied with a shrug. He reached for his cup of coffee. “But I’ve had four cups of coffee, so I’ll probably be awake all night. There’s still time.”

Combeferre raised his eyebrows. “You’re going to stay here all night?”

“Going by how surprised you look I gather that you’re not going to keep me company,” Grantaire said. “That’s too bad, because you actually seem like a great guy to talk to. It’s hard to find a good person to talk to this late at night. Or this early in the morning. Whichever way you want to see it.”

“I have to get back to my books at some point.”

“Are they getting lonely without you?”

Combeferre laughed. “Awfully lonely, yes.” He nodded at Grantaire’s notepad. “What exactly is it that you’re trying to find inspiration for?” He found Grantaire quite intriguing and Combeferre really was curious about what he did for a living. He obviously wasn’t a college kid – maybe a journalist, maybe a novelist.

“Well, I’m an illustrator, so I,” Grantaire grinned, “illustrate stuff. This stuff is for a children’s book and the deadline is still ages away, but I need to finish some sketches for them to look at soon.”

Combeferre really wanted to hear more about Grantaire and his job, so he pushed the three chapters that he’d wanted to read once he got back home to the back of his mind and listened to Grantaire as he told him about how he’d never gone to art school because his parents had refused to pay for it, about how he’d somehow got lucky anyway, about the authors he’d worked with.

At some point Grantaire stopped midsentence, blinking at him. “Sorry, I’m just talking about myself a lot and I have no idea why I just told you all of that, it’s really not that interesting.”

“It is,” Combeferre protested. He made a mental note to look for Grantaire’s illustrations.

“But I didn’t come over to sit with you just to tell you the story of my life,” Grantaire said with a wink.

“Well, I enjoyed listening to it anyway,” Combeferre said. Honestly, he could listen to Grantaire for hours on end, but he had an 8 AM lecture and he should probably head home soon.

Grantaire seemed to notice that he was starting to grow a little restless. “Remembered the books, didn’t you?”

Combeferre nodded. “Don’t think I didn’t enjoy talking to you, though.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Combeferre,” Grantaire said and once again held out his hand.

“Likewise,” Combeferre said and shook it. Then he slowly slid out of the booth. For a second he thought about asking Grantaire for his number, but quickly dismissed the idea and only smiled at him before he turned to leave.

When he got back home he found Courfeyrac sitting at their kitchen table, his hair sticking up and his eyes bleary. Enjolras was sitting next to him, nowhere even close to the image of perfection that he usually resembled.

“Where the fuck were you?” Courfeyrac grumbled.

Combeferre sat down next to him. “Were you waiting for me to get home?”

“Obviously,” Courfeyrac replied, rolling his eyes. “No one’s out to get food for two fucking hours. I heard you leave and then I found your message but you didn’t come back. And you didn’t even take your phone, but I didn’t know that, so I tried to call you and then I accidentally woke up Enjolras.”

“I’m really sorry,” Combeferre said. He hadn’t thought that the two of them would even notice that he was gone.

“Good,” Courfeyrac said loudly. “We were worried.”

Enjolras sighed wearily. “We’re glad that you’re okay. Please take your phone next time?”

“I will, “Combeferre promised. “I didn’t mean to stay out for so long, but I started talking to this guy and lost track of time.”

Courfeyrac’s expression changed from irritation to absolute delight in less than a second. “A guy? Where did you meet a guy?”

“At Denny’s,” Combeferre explained. “We just… started talking.”

“Did you get his number?”

Before Combeferre could answer, Enjolras slowly stood up, whispered, “I’m going back to bed,” and squeezed Combeferre’s shoulder on his way out – it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but four in the morning was definitely too early for Enjolras to be awake. Unless he just hadn’t gone to bed at all, but that definitely wasn’t the case today.

“The guy,” Courfeyrac prompted.

Combeferre got up, too. “I’m going to bed as well.”

“But Combeferre…” Courfeyrac followed him down the hall.

Combeferre only gave him a hug. “Thanks for staying up to wait for me,” he said and ruffled Courfeyrac’s hair before he went to his room.

* * *

Combeferre survived his early morning lecture on nothing but coffee and sheer force of will, slept for a couple of hours when he got home from his afternoon seminar and then started working on an essay that he had to hand in the week after.

He had dinner with Enjolras, since Courfeyrac was out with some of his law school friends, they watched a movie and later Combeferre went back to his essay.

It was going remarkably well and at some point he realized that if he didn’t let himself get distracted, he might be able to finish it tonight. He went to get himself some coffee so he wouldn’t fall asleep, but found nothing but a post-it that read _WE’RE OUT OF COFFEE!!!_

With a sigh, Combeferre took the note he’d written last night, added an _again_ , made sure to bring his phone this time and was then on his way.

Tonight the streets weren’t as empty as they had been the night before – it was Friday and people were either going home from one club or another or were on their way to the next bar or getting some food.

Combeferre played with the thought of going back to Denny’s, but a quick glance inside told him that Grantaire wasn’t there today. He considered his other choices and ended up walking over to IHOP. He might as well get some French Toast in addition to the coffee that he so desperately needed.

Before anyone could come and lead him to a table, Combeferre spotted a familiar mop of black curls in the back. Combeferre made his way over to Grantaire, who looked pretty surprised when he saw him walking towards him.

“Did you come looking for me?” Grantaire asked, staring up at him, looking vaguely amused.

“I might have checked if you were at Denny’s, but I didn’t actually know you were _here_.”

“Well, I like changing it up a bit every now and then. And pancakes are great,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “Come on, sit down.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mean to–”

“Yeah, I didn’t actually think you came looking for me,” Grantaire said. “Don’t worry, you’re probably the least creepy dude I’ve ever met.”

Combeferre grinned. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Are you gonna sit down?” Grantaire asked, smirking up at him.

Combeferre did and ordered a coffee and French Toast.

“What brings you here tonight?” Grantaire asked. He was wearing glasses today. Combeferre had to admit that they looked good on him – objectively speaking, obviously. The collar of his shirt was a little wider too, allowing Combeferre a better look at the vine that was trailing along his collarbone and up the side of his neck.

“I was just…” Combeferre licked his lips. His mouth had gone dry all of a sudden. “We didn’t have any coffee.”

Grantaire hummed and picked up his own cup. “Yeah, life is hard without coffee.”

Thankfully Combeferre got his own a moment later. He took his time eating his French Toast, too busy watching Grantaire as he doodled idly. Grantaire didn’t seem to mind that Combeferre was paying more attention to him than to his food. His plate was empty eventually and Combeferre had certainly been planning on finishing that essay tonight, but it wasn’t like it was going anywhere. He could always finish it tomorrow.

“Did you design your tattoo as well?” Combeferre asked.

Grantaire looked up at him with wide eyes as if he’d forgotten that Combeferre was even there. “Wh–” He touched his neck. “Oh, this one?”

Combeferre nodded.

“Yeah, this one and most of the others,” Grantaire said. “I’d show you, but I actually like it here and it would be a shame if they threw me out.”

Combeferre laughed. “We certainly wouldn’t want that.”

Just when Combeferre was about to tell him that he better get back home, Grantaire flipped his notepad shut and leaned a little closer. “So, college kid, what’s your major?”

Well, he could hardly leave now, could he?

* * *

“So, how exactly does this whole thing work?” Courfeyrac asked one morning. He picked up one of the donuts that Combeferre had brought home after his late night Dunkin’ Donuts visit. “Do you just go out on a date to a different fast food place every night?”

“We’re not going out on dates,” Combeferre said sternly.

“Yeah, right,” Courfeyrac said. “So you stay up until fuck knows when to hang out with this guy just because he’s such great company?”

“Well, I do enjoy talking to him,” Combeferre said with a shrug. Grantaire didn’t seem like the most approachable person at first look, but Combeferre loved talking to him and he was glad that they’d managed to stay in touch.

He’d written down his phone number on a napkin the night they’d met at IHOP. It would have felt like he was tempting fate if he hadn’t – he’d been sure that he wouldn’t coincidentally run into Grantaire for a third time.

Courfeyrac laughed. “You like him,” he said matter-of-factly.

“He’s interesting,” Combeferre said, “and smart and incredibly talented. You’d like him too if you met him.”

“You _like_ him,” Courfeyrac said, nodding knowingly and bit into a donut with rainbow sprinkles.

“Are you talking about Denny’s guy?” Enjolras asked as he came wandering into the living room, smiling happily when he spotted the donuts on the table.

“Combeferre is in love,” Courfeyrac cooed.

Enjolras looked at Combeferre. “Is he?”

“He is not,” Combeferre said.

“Why is he speaking of himself in the third person?”

Combeferre sighed and stood up. He definitely needed to get some work done today.

“Where are you going?” Courfeyrac asked. “McDonalds? Subway? Don’t look at me like that, Enjolras, we both know that he loves Denny’s guy.”

Quite frankly, Combeferre really was fond of Grantaire. The more time he spent with him and the better he got to know him, the better Combeferre liked him. The sleep-deprivation was definitely worth it.

When Grantaire sent him a text shortly after midnight only a couple of days later, telling him that he was at Taco Bell, Combeferre hardly hesitated before he headed out. Grantaire never actually invited him to join him, he just told him where he was and left it up to Combeferre to come by or not.

It was easy to spot Grantaire, even though today he’d tucked a beanie over his unruly curls. Combeferre didn’t get himself anything to eat, he just sat down across from Grantaire.

“Didn’t think you’d come today,” Grantaire said and pushed his tray over to Combeferre. “Do you want a taco? It’s probably cold, though.”

“You didn’t think I’d come but you still have a leftover taco for me?”

“I just didn’t get around to eating it yet.” Grantaire shrugged. He looked tired tonight, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Are you alright?” Combeferre asked.

Grantaire smirked. “You’re annoyingly perceptive,” he replied. “But yeah, I’m fine. I just need some sleep. And maybe a drink. Or five drinks.” He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Haven’t had one in four months.”

In all their conversation _that_ had never come up. “That’s quite a long time,” Combeferre said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

Grantaire managed a tired smile. “I’m glad you came by.”

“So am I,” Combeferre said earnestly.

“Well, Combeferre,” Grantaire said and leaned back in his chair, “tell me a story or something.”

* * *

“Maybe we should start a fast food blog or something,” Grantaire said. “We’re basically experts.”

“We definitely are.” They’d driven halfway across town to go to Five Guys, only because he’d told Grantaire that he’d never been there and Grantaire had somehow been personally offended by it.

Grantaire had picked him up, had invited him for dinner and had taken him back home, which was where they were now – outside of Combeferre’s place, still sitting in Grantaire’s battered Toyota, chatting idly. The whole evening had felt suspiciously like a date.

Combeferre had long since given up on pretending that he didn’t wish it actually was one.

He cleared his throat. “Well, thank you for…”

“No problem,” Grantaire said, smiling sheepishly.

Obviously Combeferre could ask him to come upstairs, but there was a very real possibility that they might come across Enjolras running around with post-it notes stuck in his hair and Courfeyrac cooking something weird like a ramen noodle sandwich.

Combeferre smiled back at Grantaire, a little uncertain about how to proceed.

“Well,” Grantaire said, “maybe we can check out Panda Express next weekend.”

“I’d like that,” Combeferre said and slowly opened the door, hitting his head on his way out of the car. “See you…”

Grantaire laughed. “You okay?”

Combeferre rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “Right, um, bye.”

“See you around,” Grantaire said, still looking like he was about to burst out laughing.

Combeferre quickly slammed the door shut and watched as Grantaire drove away before he slowly trudged back up to their apartment, where he was promptly greeted by Courfeyrac, who seemed to be eating Noodle O’s straight out of the can.

Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t ask him to come upstairs?”

Combeferre didn’t reply.

“You’re fucking hopeless,” Courfeyrac said with a sigh.

Honestly, Combeferre felt inclined to agree.

* * *

When Combeferre found Grantaire at Denny’s on the following Thursday, he was a little surprised. Combeferre always walked past Denny’s on his way home from college, but he’d never seen Grantaire in there during the daytime.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you while the sun was up,” Combeferre greeted him after he’d walked inside.

Grantaire snorted. “Were you starting to make up vampire theories or something?”

“Not yet,” Combeferre said and smiled at him. He could ask him now. He’d promised Courfeyrac to ask the next time he saw Grantaire. Combeferre always kept his promises, so that had seemed like a safe way of getting over himself and finally asking Grantaire out. “Are you busy?” he asked instead.

Grantaire shook his head. “Not busier than usual.”

They wasted a couple of minutes with idle small talk and Combeferre ordered some fries. Grantaire told him about his next assignment, but Combeferre found it really hard to listen and hardly even noticed when the waitress brought his food.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Grantaire asked, his lips curling into a smile.

“Grantaire,” Combeferre said, ignoring his fries, “there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

Grantaire’s eyebrows disappeared behind his curls. “Go ahead.”

“Would you like to go out on a date with me?” Combeferre asked, with a calm that he certainly did not feel. “Maybe to an actual restaurant?”

“Wait, you’re saying that Denny’s isn’t a real restaurant?”

“We can go to Denny’s,” Combeferre said. That wasn’t the point.

“Well, we are at Denny’s right now.” Grantaire grinned, but quickly grew serious. “Are you sure that you really want to go out with the loser artist guy?”

Combeferre pursed his lips. “I’m sure I want to go out with you, yes.”

Grantaire stared him down for a couple of seconds, then his expression softened, as if it had taken him a moment to accept that Combeferre was actually serious. “In that case… I know a pretty good Italian place, but I don’t think they’re open until two in the morning, so I might have to pick you up at seven or something.”

Combeferre let out a sigh of relief. “That’s fine with me.”

“Great,” Grantaire said. “Let’s make that our second date, then.”

“Our second date?” Combeferre asked.

Grantaire nodded and stole one of Combeferre’s fries. “This is the first.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> (And thank you to the people who organized the exchange!)


End file.
